


Thread

by APgeeksout



Category: Saga (Comics)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, Goober. Give your granny another poke. I think maybe she's coming back around."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



> Happy Purimgifts, opalmatrix! 
> 
> Set during the time skipped near the end of issue 30; I haven't read past that point yet, so if I'm inadvertently contradicting info that comes later, then please consider this an AU!

"Hey, Goober. Give your granny another poke. I think maybe she's coming back around."

Klara had had ruder awakenings, though not many. And fewer still when she'd longed so desperately to remain blissfully unaware that her life had become something her daughter-in-law would no doubt describe as a shitshow.

The familiar solid bulk of Hazel settled heavy against her shoulder - thankfully not the wounded one, though as she resurfaced, awareness of the throbbing pain that radiated down that arm returned, too - one sticky fist pressing urgently at her neck.

"Granny! Granny? Can you wake up? Can we leave now? I don't like it here. My face is all melty boogers."

Klara opened her eyes slowly, head pounding still from the blow or blast that she assumed had put her out, and tried to pull herself up without groaning too loudly. Hazel's nose was indeed running down her face like the stream that wound behind the summer house they'd rented when Marko was a boy. Izabel drifted into view with a fuchsia aura and a fretful face and a handkerchief that had belonged to Oswald.

She swiped at Hazel's nose and sighed. "So, I guess it's nighttime wherever we are."

"Wreath." She broke into a long string of _Blue._ She was sure that Izabel had learned all the curse words by now.  At this rate, Hazel wouldn't be far behind. "They were pointing us toward Wreath High Command," she resumed.

Izabel shook her head and hauled Hazel back so that Klara could sit straighter, arranging her robe around the seeping wound at her shoulder. There was a smear of rusty brown gore on Hazel's coat; she couldn't tell if it had come from her or the reptile she'd obliterated.

"Something's wrong with the ship. They're arguing about how to barter for fuel." Izabel paused, looking meaningfully at Hazel, worrying the handkerchief against her own snotty face now. "Where is A-L-A-N-A?"

"Planet-side, when we blasted off," Klara said, and felt her own face fall along with Izabel's. "If I can pull myself together, could you create a diversion? An illusion?"

"One of them is from Cleave; he'd be able to see through it." Izabel's face was, impossibly, more miserable. "What are we going to do?"

Hazel made a discontented, congested sound and curled up in Klara's lap. Klara rubbed a soothing circle over her granddaughter's back - right between the jut of her little wings - Barr's weaving fine and strong beneath her fingers. "Whatever it takes to keep her safe."


End file.
